


This Thing We Keep

by captrogerscarter



Category: Genghis Khan - Miike Snow (Music Video), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover, M/M, Villain Tony Stark, but not really, i'm not sure what happened, sort of, this was supposed to be silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6988330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captrogerscarter/pseuds/captrogerscarter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony have been doing this dance for years, but neither of them are playing anymore.</p><p>--</p><p>Steve/Tony, set in the universe of the music video for <i>Genghis Kahn</i> by Miike Snow, which you should really watch if you haven't. Done for Cap/Iron Man RBB 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Thing We Keep

**Author's Note:**

> This is my RBB submission for Team Gallant! Nat did the amazing art, [you can see it here!](http://nat-draws-things.tumblr.com/post/145023505418)
> 
> This is an crossover with the music video for Miike Snow's _Genghis Khan_. I highly recommend watching it first, both because it will give the fic some extra context, and also just because it's excellent. 
> 
> This one was surprisingly difficult to write! I've been playing with a new writing style and it's my first crossover. Also, it was supposed to be silly. It didn't end up being silly. I'm not sure what happened. My partner was fantastic, though, and I love that I had the privilege of working with them and their wonderful art.
> 
> Also, this is the first actual fanfic I have actually finished and put online in over twelve years! I'm a little nervous, but whatever faults it has, I'm just proud I actually finished it and put it out there.

The irony wasn't lost on Tony that, despite all his genius and planning, all the years and narrow misses and narrower escapes, this is how it happened. A wrong turn, a locked door, and a startled rookie who's first instinct was to bash the Captain in the head rather than shoot at him.

Honestly, he'd be upset about it if it weren't sort of hilarious.

He rounded the corner, smirking a little at the guards standing at attention. They'd put him directly on the slab, and Captain Rogers didn't look the least bit surprised. And why should he? He knew better than most how clever Tony was, and honestly? After the third time you lose a prisoner during transfer, anyone would rethink their approach.

"About time you showed up," Steve-  _ Captain Rogers _ , he quickly corrected- said with all his normal bravado, but when Tony looked up at him, the retort died in his throat. There was fear in the Captain's expression, and it looked wrong on his face, somehow. Instead of feeling giddy, the way he had wanted to feel, had dreamed of feeling at the moment his last real stumbling block was to be eliminated, it was an uncomfortable, aching weight in his chest.

And, despite it all, Captain Rogers refused to break eye contact with him. It challenge clear as day, heedless of the fact that he was immobilized, and had no right to look so resolute. He was going to miss that about him, he let himself think, and just for a moment, Tony wondered if this what he had looked like before, standing up to bullies in the back alleys of Brooklyn.

No. He couldn't think about this. He had to focus.

"I'm a busy man, Captain," he said finally, pulling back on the armor of casual disinterest. He strolled along the side of the slab, making a show of looking him over. His shirt was dirty and rumpled from the struggle- hell, he was still struggling now, twisting and pulling at the restraints every couple minutes in vain. Tony slipped his hands into his pockets and turned away, crossing to the bank of controls. "I can always make time for you, though. I left a meeting for this. An important one."

"Good," Steve said, spat out, and he strained all his weight against the restraints, until he was red in the face. Immediately, laser points painted his the white of his tuxedo shirt, but Tony just waved them off. He wasn't getting loose, and even if he did manage, well. It wasn't like there was anywhere he could go. Not that Tony could blame him for trying. He'd never expect the Captain to go down anyway but fighting.

He turned the dial, and the machine roared to life. It was a nasty looking thing, one he'd built with his own hands. A little overdramatic maybe, but he'd never been accused to being subtle.

He ran through the preparation of the machine, but despite it's simplicity - not to anyone else, granted, but for him - he found his hands moving slowly, lingering over the steps. The truth was, for all the years he'd tried to capture the Captain, now that he had him , he felt...adrift. It didn't seem real, somehow, that in a few minutes, it would all be over. The Captain would be dead, and there'd be nothing left to stop him.

"You don't have to do this," the Captain said, his tone low and firm, but there was an edge to it, something pleading, and that sound, that - that was it. He felt the frustration bubble up in his throat, hot and biting like bile, and he rounded on him sharply, storming to the edge of the slab.

"That's where you're wrong, Captain. I really, really  _ do _ ."  He pushed open his blue jacket wrenched his shirt down to display the gold formed molded into his chest, the casing to the apparatus that, just barely, kept the jagged casing of his own bomb from needling their way into his heart. The skin around it was puckered and wrinkled, discolored scar tissue that looked more out of place against the gleaming metal than it did his own olive skin. "Look at this, Captain. Look at what they did to me, and tell me I don't have to do this."

"What happened to you was wrong, Stark. But whatever you think has happened, this...revenge, or whatever you think it is-"

"This isn't about revenge," Tony said, cutting him off,  and his insistence sounded like a lie even to his own ears. It wasn't about revenge, not really. The revenge nothing but a coincidental, but still welcome, bonus to what had to be done. "This is about my legacy, Captain. They stole my weapons, they tried to kill me, and when that didn't work? They took my company.  _ My _ company, Rogers. They took my work, they used it to kill people, they had been using it to kill people for years. Maybe since dad was alive. And, it bears mentioning, if he's willing to do this to me - he was like a /father/ to me, Captain- then what would he do to someone else?"

He was yelling, by the end of it, and some of his men were shifting uncomfortably. They didn't see him like this very often, not since he stopped drinking. He didn't like them seeing him like this, but he felt remarkably unbalanced, uncontrolled. Stumbling towards a cliff he couldn't back away from. He'd have to apologize later. A bonus, maybe. Paid time off.

"Tony." Steve's voice broke through his thoughts, dragging his attention back. It was soft,  gentle in a way that Tony hated, that almost made him wish the button was in his hand right now, just so he didn't have to hear it. "No one They locked you out of the company because they believed that you were unstable, due to your trauma. Which, I mean-" He moved his head and hands in a way that seemed to encapsulate the room, all it's soldiers with their golden anatomical heart pins on their lapels, the lab equipment, his own restraints. "Considering your response, I'm inclined to say they're right."

Tony was quiet for a long moment. They'd had this conversation before. He knew there was no use in trying to convince the man otherwise. Steve was too goddamn stubborn, and so was he. "Just curious," he said, letting his voice drawl out as he decided to change the subject, rather than attempt to argue. "Do you normally antagonize people who are about to kill you?"

"Yeah, I do," Steve said, actually cracking a grin, and it was so infectious that Tony had to return the expression.

"And how's that working out for you?"

"Well," Steve said, the Brooklyn drawl slipping into his voice.  "I'm not dead yet."

Steve chuckled ruefully at himself, and Tony felt something in his chest swell and break. He was just so...tired. Despite everything, all their differences, he knew the Captain was a good man. They might call Tony a villain, and maybe he was, but he didn't- he didn't want this. This wasn't right.

But while it may not have been right, it was necessary, for the greater good.  For mankind. This one man, a good man, would die, and when he did, the blood would be on Tony's own hands. But how many good men had already died? How many good men would continue to die, if the Captain were spared?

Tony already had innocent blood on his hands, complicit even in his ignorance. But the Captain? He had made his choice, just as Tony was making his. The others were just unlucky victims, pulled into the wreckage that had been born from the mistakes of himself and his father. No matter how much he wished it could be different,  this was how it had to be. He knew that, if the Captain truly understood, he'd have agreed.

They both would give anything for the greater good, after all. The Captain would give his life, and Tony, well. He'd already sold his soul, long before he'd even realized it was gone.

Tony held Steve's gaze as his technician brought him the control. He looked resigned, but he was smiling, his eyes as bright as they day they met.  Not for the first time, Tony wished that things could have been different. That they'd met in some other life, before all of this, before the drinking and the death. Back in the day of MIT when he was just a kid. Caustic, but still hopeful, still dreaming. When he still had the same kind of idealism that the Captain embodied, before he'd buried it with his parents.

He'd have given anything to go back. For this to be different.

But then, when had he ever gotten what he'd wanted?

Tony had to smile back, and he knew Steve understood. That maybe Tony felt this was necessary, but that it wasn't what he wanted.

Tony hoped that it mattered to him, at least a little.

"Well," he said finally, as the technician finished starting the machine. "There's a first time for everything."

The sound was terrible, the laser glowing, vibrations so strong that Tony could feel them coming up through the floor. The technician brought him the control, and his hand shook as he brought it up.

"I'm sorry," he said, so soft that, had Steve been anyone else, he wouldn't have heard it. Instead, the corner of his mouth curled up just a little, but his eyes were desperate. Tony knew the image would stick with him forever.

He clinched his fist, took a breath, and -

The device powered down, the bell sounding for the end of the day. Tony felt disoriented, his heart pounding in his chest and sweat beading on his forehead. When he looked at Steve, he looked just as alarmed, not understanding what had happened.

"Really?" Tony asked, his voice full of irritation as he  turned at the sound of Pepper's clicks against the concrete floor. Her lips were pressed thin as her eyes rested on the Captain, but they were quickly focused back on him.

"You're the one who set the save and kill protocol, Mister Stark. You already hit fifteen minutes over." And it was true- he had set the system to automatically power down at close of business, except in cases of emergencies. A safegaurd for his workers, after the second time they'd fallen victim to his workaholic induced inability to keep track of time.

He sighed deeply and avoided looking at the Captain. As terrible as it was, he wished he'd just gotten it over with- not just for him, but for the Captain too. It was unspeakably cruel, to leave him here, like a fish dangling on a hook.  "There's a enemy in the base. Doesn't' that qualify as an emergency?"

Pepper wasn't swayed, though it wouldn't have mattered if she was. It wasn't like she had the codes, even if she did know how to access them. "The Captain is secure. Besides, Tony - you have a function this evening. Or did you forget?"

Tony groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. Christ, he wanted a drink.

"Wait, really?" The Captain said behind him, disbelieving, and Tony avoided looking back.

"My employees' time is important,"  he said, walking to the power bank to ensure that everything was secure. It was, of course. He'd build it, after all. "I find that respect for your employees is crucial to maintaining the loyalties of my workforce, and besides, I'm not a monster." He tossed the remote onto the table and slipped his hands into his pockets, walking for the door. Strolling, even; his muscles strained with effort to walk calmly when all he wanted was to run from the room. "C'mon, Pep. We've got somewhere to be."

**_Past._ **

 

Sometimes, Tony couldn't even remember why he used to like this - the press of people, the free flowing alcohol and drugs, the sycophants. His past didn't feel real to him, like a movie of someone else's life that . It made sense, he supposed that now he was forced to live it again, for his sins. The attention used to make him feel less lonely, and he'd always known it was fake, but it hadn't mattered as much before. Maybe because he no longer had the alcohol to distract him, or because he no longer had the goal of getting laid. No one could see his chest, and besides, he wasn't sure he could handle it anymore, anyway.

It was too loud. The thing that hadn't struck him about the caves until he had gotten home was how quiet he had been. There had been the sounds his work, of course, but in general, it was just silence. The noise of the party, the people after months of just Yinsen and guards, it was overwhelming.

Worse than that, though, was the way he was made to face the way he used to live, had to hear Yensin tell him not to waste his life. Had to keep playing the part, but he supposed there was something fitting about it. To be changed, but having to keep playing through the same old scene, for his sins.

There was the scrape of a chair, and Tony rolled his eyes as he went to tell off whoever had sat at his table, but he stopped when he saw the man. Blonde, gorgeous, a frankly absurd shoulder to waist ratio, and, hey, look at that. A fresh drink, set down on the table in front of Tony. Tony stared at it blandly for a long moment, then glanced back up to the stranger, giving him a lazy, charming smile. "You do know you're not supposed to accept drinks from strangers, right? Or am I just supposed to take you on your wholesome good looks?" He flicked his eyes up and down, blatantly appraising. "Seriously, you're like something out of a fifties housewife's wet dream. I know it's cliche, but I'm sorry, I've gotta - what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"

The stranger just laughed through the monologue, meanwhile taking the drink back, holding Tony's gaze as he took a sip from it, and once again setting it down in front of him. "Better?"

"Except for the part where it's got your germs on it, sure." He considered, then took it anyway, swallowing back a long sip. It wasn't alcoholic, and he carefully resisted displaying the instant tension that itched up through his spine, fast and sharp like pinpricks. Instead he grimaced and gave the man a slightly incredulous look, then set it far enough away that it made it clear he wasn't intending to drink from it again. He leaned back and crossed his arms, a careful expression of boredom and disapproval in place before one eyebrow rose. "So?"

The man shifted slightly at the immediate shift, and cleared his throat. "So, what?"

"So, you obviously came here for something, so get to it." The man didn't say anything so Tony sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. "You come up when I'm alone, clearly you either want me sober or are a Mormon, which, honestly, I could buy it if it weren't for the fact you were  _ here _ , so you want something. So, what is it? Do you have a great new idea I just  _ have _ to hear about, are you hoping I'll introduce you to a casting director, do you want sex-"

The man blushed deeply, his pale skin taking to it easily until it was from his ears to his throat. Tony grinned, pausing from where he'd been ticking them off his fingers to raise an eyebrow. "Really? I guess I was wrong about the wholesome thing-"

"No, I just." The man cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck. He looked so damned sheepish, he almost believed that this guy didn't know exactly what he was doing, when he glanced up shyly through those eyelashes. "I just, uh - how about a dance?”

Tony laughed, but just smiled and settled back in his seat. "A dance, huh?" he said, and considered the man for a long moment before finally dragging the glass back to him and taking a long sip. "Do I get a name first?"

He relaxed a little, still pink, and gave a sheepish smile. "Steve."

\---

The dance was surprising in that Tony actually enjoyed it. Steve had easily let him lead - refreshing, since the bigger ones usually thought the fact the had several inches on him gave them the divine right - and he enjoyed the way Steve went a very satisfying shade of pink when he flirted with him. One dance turned into a several, but it wasn't long before they slipped out of the party, Tony tugging him along even though they walked in step towards a bedroom. The moment the door was closed behind them, he slipped off his suit jacket and began undoing his cufflinks.

"So who sent you?"

For the first time all night, Steve seemed thrown off kilter, but Tony just stared at him expectantly., pocketing the little pieces of metal before rolling up his sleeves.

"I don't know what you mean," Steve said, and it almost sounded convincing, but it was just slightly off, the smallest bit unsteady.

"That actually sounded more convincing than I was expecting, good job," Tony praised, and it would have sounded free of condescension, if it hadn't been for the sneer. "But I'll ask again." He pressed a button on his watch, and his hand covered in a gauntlet; he pulled it up his forearm easily. "Who. Sent. You?"

Steve looked as though he was going to protest again, but at the bored look Tony shot him, he just sighed. “How did you know?”

“Please, I’m a genius.” Intelligence had said a spy or something would be around this evening, and Steve was the only person who’d pushed to meet him. He wasn’t certain, but, hey. If he’d gotten it wrong, the worst Steve could have said was that he was crazy and paranoid, and the press published stories like that every time there was a slow news day. Steve didn’t need to know that.

But Steve didn't look like he believed him, so Tony just sighted irritably. "I was tipped off earlier that someone might infiltrate tonight. You fit the bill, but you  _ really _ are too wholesome for these parties, Steven. Then you kept setting things down rather than attempting to hand them to me, which, okay, sure, that one's on Wikipedia, but the fact that I'm attempting to permanently switch to apple juice isn't. Which, hey, thanks for that. You must be the most ethical honeypot I've ever heard of."

The repulsor was primed now, whining softly, the barely audible hum becoming an undertone to the room and filling the space between them. "But really, who are you? One of Fury's boys? I can't imagine Stane sending someone so  _ nice _ ."

Steve stayed stiff and challenging for a long moment, but after a few moments, Tony could see just from his posture the exact second he decided to give in. "I'm with SHIELD."

Tony swore quietly. Stane, he could handle. His brutality rarely allowed for good men,  which meant that, typically, brutality could be returned in kind. Fury, well. Fury was good people, even if he hadn't been good to Tony, not like Tony had needed him to, and he hired good people in kind. Tony figured maybe that's why he'd sent this ridiculous agent in the first place; he radiated goodness, the type that intrinsically made something in Tony want to be better, and Fury knew he was a sentimental bastard.

Tony squeezed at the bridge of his nose as he ran through some options, the exhaled a deep breath slowly. "How much do you know?"

Slowly, telegraphing his movements, Steve lifted an arm until he was reaching towards his chest, and then Tony was reacting, shying back and bringing his hand up, power swelling and flowing bright in his palm. A cold sweat pricked up and he was panting, struggling against thoughts of other people with their hands in his chest as his empty hand went to guard his golden heart.

Steve immediately put both hands up in the classic gesture and took a step back. Tony gathered himself, then scowled. "So, when do the rest get here, then?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The rest, the reinforcements, come on, keep up." He swung an arm, gesturing wildly in his frustration.

"It's just me."    

Tony stopped short, and his eyes narrowed. "What?"

"It's just me. I had a hunch your identity, and wanted to talk to you alone. Fury doesn't know who you are. Hell, I wasn't positive until a few minutes ago."

Damn it. But still, the bigger question - "And why, exactly, would you do something that stupid?"

"You haven't done anything yet, Tony, not really." He was so earnest, and his eyes were bright and determined. It made Tony wish everything between them hadn't been pretense. He couldn't bring anyone to bed, especially not a  _ spy _ , but a part of him still wanted to, when Steve looked at him like that. "You've made sure the buildings you've bombed were empty. Subsidiaries of Stark Resilient - yes, I found that, don't look so surprised, Tony - would suddenly hire the former employees of the manufacturing plants that blew. I'd be willing to bet you were the one who gave us that anonymous information that let us take in Hammer last year."

So much for the guy being stupid. Tony had been careful, too. "So?"

"So, I feel like you're trying to help people, even if you're doing the wrong way, Tony. I haven't given up on you."

Tony flashed him a rueful grin, and wow, was it a kick in the ass to realize he was so hard up on approval that Steve's words made his chest swell. He just grinned, though, not quite as flippant as he hoped for, but close enough. "Well, we'll see how long that lasts, won't we?"

**_Present._ **

Tony sat at that same table, watching people dance in the distance. It had been forever, since he and Steve had had that first dance. They'd had several since then, during their little games of cat and mouse. The last time, Tony had been in a bad mood, fueled by exhaustion and a throbbing migraine that was only getting worse by the crowd. Stane was ramping up for something, getting one then two then four steps ahead of him. People were going to die, were already dying, and if something didn't give, because Tony wasn't able to keep up. The little chess game between him and Steve was getting old, now that Steve was actually standing in his way.

Steve had asked him to dance, and Tony had glared and pushed his hand away. Rolled his eyes as he told Steve that he thought they were both getting a little old for this game.

He wished he'd taken it now. His chest ached - he was grieving, he realized belatedly. That he'd never see Steve grin and laugh at him again, feel Steve's hands on him, or Steve's body under his hands. He wished he'd crossed that line they both knew was there, and carefully stayed on other side of. He was mourning not just the man, but the lost chances, all while knowing he had no right, when the Captain was going to die at his hand.

"Are you really going to do it?"

Tony hadn't seen Pepper approach, but he didn't startle at it either. He could hear the judgement in her voice, but it didn't chafe the way it would have, had she been anyone else.

"I don't know, Pep," he said with a sigh after a long silence, and rolled his head over to look at her. "I mean, what other choice do I have? You know how long I've worked for this. You know how close we are. We can take it all down. No one else will get hurt, we can take the company back...we can't stop now. I don't..." he lowered his voice and rubbed his forehead. There were wrinkles there now, matching the grey starting at his temples and starting to make him look as old as he felt. "I don't want to, Pepper, you know I don't. I'd give anything not to, except the lives of those innocent people Stane is going to kill. So what choice do I have?"

His voice came out more plaintive than he'd meant it to, but matched how he felt perfectly. He wanted her to tell him something, something that would make this work out, that meant he could have it all.  That Steve could still be alive, but Stane would still be stopped, would be punished.

"You could explain-"

"I've tried, Pep, you know I have. He's too goddamn stubborn." He rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes. "You get accused of having paranoid delusions /one time/ and suddenly no one takes you seriously anymore."

"You have more proof this time."

"And last time I checked, they won't even take my calls. This is happening /now/, Pepper. I'm pretty sure Stane isn't waiting patiently for bureaucracy to finish dicking around, so I can't afford to either." He snapped at the end, and winced. He was doing that more and more lately. He could feel himself losing it, like the guilt and weight of responsibility was eating him alive. He felt like everyone else could see it too.

"I don't think you should do it," Pepper said finally, and when he looked at her, her face was stony, serious in a way he didn't see from her often. Grave, almost. "You've been pushed here, but I think this is the point where you decide who you're going to be. If you're the man who does the right thing the only way he can, or a villain. I think, if you go this way, that this is the point you can't come back from. And if you go there, Tony...I'm not sure I can follow you."

Tony stared at his napkin as she stood, unable to look her in the face. His eyes squeezed shut as she passed a hand through his hair, kissed his forehead. She never did this in public, was always so careful to make sure everything looked above the board, that no one had any cause to think that Pepper Potts got where she was because she was sleeping with the boss.

It felt like a goodbye.

Once she was gone, he went to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face. Avoided looking in the mirror. Told himself not to drink. Left and found a pair of girls, cute ones he'd noticed earlier flirting with each other as much as with him, brought them up to his room. Kissed them a little, but the bile was in this throat even before one looked up at him with eyes just the right shade of blue.

It'd taken everything he could to stay casual as he rolled off the bed, made an excuse of looking for drinks and not to wait up before making his escape. Went to his room, the real one, and sat in bed alone. The only thing he could think of was Steve, wondering if he was lying there, dreading the morning, still straining and trying to escape, or if the stress and exhaustion had made him sleep. He thought about walking down there, to try talking to him like Pepper had asked him to. But if he did, he knew he'd give in, so he stayed in bed, alone, and dreading what had to be done.

\---

The next day, Tony didn't waste any time. He was barking orders to his men to power the machine the moment he walked in. He looked appraisingly at the Captain as the tech brought him the control and the machine roared to life, ignoring the way it made his chest ache to see how exhausted Steve looked, pale with dark circles on his usually perfect face.

The systems ready light clicked on. He took a deep breath, a sweat breaking out. His hands trembled as he slowly brought it up, and when he glanced at Steve, the look on his face brought him to a halt. It was fear, and disbelief, and Tony remembered what Steve had told him, all those years ago.

_ I haven't given up on you yet. _

All these years, even after a night of being strapped to that table, Steve hadn't truly believed that he could go through with it until this moment. It was like a punch in the gut, like all the air had left his lungs, and he knew, right then, that Steve was right. He couldn't do this.

He hit the release.

For a moment, Steve didn't seem to understand what had happened, but it was only a second before he had sprung up off the table. Tony turned away, unable to watch. He knew what would happen, once he were gone. He'd report his identity to Fury, like he probably should have all those years ago. The mission would be a failure, and Stane - Stane would get everything he wanted. He hoped that what he had would be enough for them to at least keep an eye on him, and hope Stane tripped up in time. He'd spend his life in prison, but hopefully he could keep anyone from going down with him.

He'd made his choices. He'd live with the consequences.

His guards rushed forward, guns out and trained on Steve, and he gestured for them to let him go. They were confused, men milling about with uneasy expressions, but they did as instructed. Tony closed his eyes and waited for the slam of the door, for Steve to leave so he could get his men started on data erasing and evacuation.

It didn't come.

Instead, a soft hand rest on his shoulder, broad and familiar. His heart sped up, powered by a small flicker of hope, and a disbelieving smile broke out over his face as he turned to see Steve looking down at him, a hopeful, lopsided little smile of his own.

"Steve?" His voice was soft and unsteady, and he swallowed hard around the tightness of his throat.

"I still haven't given up on you," Steve said, and his hand squeezed the shoulder, his thumb stroking back and forth against the fabric of his coat. "So, what do you think? You still think we're old for this, or can we dance?" His other hand was offered out.

Tony took it.

 

**_Future._ **

 

Everyone in the meeting had been board, right up until the moment the doors burst open and Nick Fury lead twelve SHIELD agents in. He made a beeline for Stane, grabbing one of the arms he was holding up to try and pacify them, and twisting it around his back to cuff.

"Obadiah Stane, you are being arrested for kidnapping, conspiracy to murder in the first degree, attempted murder in the first degree, illegal arms dealing, fraud-"

The list went on as they dragged the man out under armed guard, talking over his protests. From the distance, Tony watched, Steve next to him, his arm a heavy but comforting weight around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen, Tony," Steve said, his voice quiet.

Tony's hand went up to take the one resting on his arm, and he leaned heavily against his partner.  "I'm sorry I stopped giving you the chance to."

\---

"-and then on this page, here, here, and here."

Tony signed each with a quick, illegible scrawl, his chest feeling like it was bursting with pride, even if he didn't let anyone see. The notary handed it over to Fury, who signed, then signed it herself. He was just about to make some smart remark, but before he could, a siren blared.

"And not a second too soon," Steve, who'd been beside him, said as he tugged the cowl of his hood over his eyes. He picked up the gleaming golden helmet of Tony's armor, which he'd set aside for the paperwork, and tossed it for Tony to catch. "Suit up, Avenger," he called, already on the way out the door.

Tony pulled it on, then was right behind him.

\---

"What?"

Tony hadn't realized he was staring until Steve had hooked up from his book, something historical and boring, and lifted one eyebrow at him from behind those ridiculous glasses he wore at home. It still didn't felt real, sometimes, that he got to have this, and he feared waking up back in the hell he'd created for himself, or worse, to find out he'd made the wrong choice.  

Tony started to say as much, but in the end just shook his head. "Nothing," he said, and he ignored Steve's look of fond exasperation. His hand found Steve's on the covers, and he brought it up, kissing the back. "I just love you, you know."

"Yeah, Tony, I know. I love you too."

Tony smiled, and went back to his schematics.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I'm on tumblr at [captrogers-carter](http://captrogers-carter.tumblr.com/).


End file.
